


Illinois

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, The Rollin Coffin, Tour life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: Prompt: Hey could you do a fluffy fic where Matt is on tour with Alk3 and he can’t sleep bc he misses Mark so he calls him at like 3 am just to hear his voice?





	Illinois

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely prompt.
> 
> Title based on a Sufjan Stevens' song
> 
> ******
> 
> All mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

Matt likes to call his bunk on the Alkaline Trio bus The Rollin’ Coffin. Sometimes it’s his shelter from all the tour schnick schnack, a pleasant private space to mediate or read, a secret place to keep his sweets stash that even Derek won’t find. And sometimes it’s like someone would shut the heavy lid on a coffin, condemning him to lay sleepless in the nauseating, airless space.

Matt rolls around in the darkness of his bunk, taping on the ceiling above his head, just to assure himself that he’s still at the same place. The night ticks away one long minute after another, the bus quietly rolls through the plains of Illinois, heading towards Chicago.

It’s not exactly nervousness that keeps Matt wide awake in the middle of the night. Although he has stage fright itching at his fingertips every time he plays in Chicago, making him shake on the verge of vomiting.

Matt feels lonely. He rolls to the side, hugs his other pillow tight and sighs. How great it’d be if Mark would be here now. Spending such a long time without him is worse than torture. Okay, you have fun with private snapchats, texts, et cetera and Mark promised to meet him at the NY gig, but still… Matt is embracing only a pillow and not the man himself. He groans again. Is it needy to call at 3am? Wouldn’t it be too desperate? He’s a grown ass man for fucks sake, he can handle being alone couple of days.

Matt reaches for his phone tucked beneath pillow, opens one of the saved snaps and stares at Mark who with the deer filter over his face complains how it is unfair that raccoons get all the roadkill publicity. Then he taps another one. Morning Mark is nestled between the sheets in their bed and quietly talks, hair ruffled and still looking sleepy. Matt presses the replay button maybe five times. He tries to fight it but then he gives up and dials Mark.

Mark picks up at the second ring. “Hey hi, I was just about to go to bed. How are you? You know you should be sleeping now?!”

“I know,” Matt’s answer is a little bit apologetic, “but I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Aww, you can’t fall asleep without hearing my voice? You’re so sweet,” Mark coos.

Even in the pitch dark of the bunk Matt blushes like a love struck teenager. “No, I can’t. At least not today,” he admits.

“Should I sing you a lullaby to bring you to sleep?” Mark continues.

Matt can hear the sheets rustling on the other side of the line. “No you don’t need to. Hearing your voice is enough.”

“Sorry Sunshine, you’re lonely without me, I miss you too. But it’s only three days to New York, yaay.”

Matt pictures Mark cheering with his fist from the sheets.

“Mmhm, I’m looking forward to NY so much,” Matt hums, placing the phone next to him and snuggling to the pillow. “I put you on speakers, okay” he tells Mark, watching the caller ID with his picture on the screen.

“Okay, so shall I sing you the lullaby?” Mark asks again.

“Well you could, but I’m afraid the guys would be scared to hear an old hawk croak in the middle of the night,” Matt grimaces.

“Psh, you liar, I have a beautiful voice.”

“I know,” Matt sighs and closes eyes. “Tell me how was your day…”

“Well I did some work around the house, I organized the shit in my office and studio. You will be proud of me when you get back. I went out with Fin and some other guy for lunch… nothing special, just the average day… You know I daydreamed about you while making coffee in the afternoon? I used the blend we made together at David’s workshop. I immediately remembered you sneezing into the can with the grounds,” Mark’s laugh is fond and frank.

“Really? I’m sorry I’m clumsy, it ticked in my nose,” Matt repents.

“No, it’s fine I found it very adorable, plus you were so stressed afterward you kept calling David Mister Kennedy.”

“Oh God, please don’t remind me.”

Mark’s laugh resonates in Matt’s bunk. “You know I love you,” he whispers then and Matt only sighs smiling.

“Tell me more,” Matt asks again, slowly drifting into slumber.

“First you turn down my lullaby offer and now you want me to sweet talk,” Mark complains but then continues to speak and Matt is smiling into his pillow.

“… so I guess if he is able to notice us as an outsider, then everyone else can. And I’m totally okay with that. What do you think?” Mark ends his monologue with a question but there is no answer. Matt is sound asleep, at ease, cuddled up to his pillow.

“Okay…. night, Sunshine,” echoes Mark’s amused voice in the bunk and the caller ID disappears from Matt’s phone leaving The Rollin’ Coffin drowned in intimate, comfy dark.


End file.
